Christophe's Decision -- An Empire's Fate
by TLOZLink5
Summary: Maybe this one circles the drain a bit, but I'm proud of it regardless. Victory at Albrook heralds a new age for the fledgling Empire, and General Leo is chosen to lead a new generation of warriors...


Disclaimer: General Leo is the property of Square, as are Kefka, Gestahl, yada yada yada...  
  
Author's Note: Why Kefka? Why was he chosen to be the first MagiTek Knight out of all Imperial soldiers? General Leo was certainly more well-known, yet he never underwent the infustion. This fic has an idea as to why, but General Leo fans, I assure you -- I love Leo; I mean no harm to his honor. This is simply a hypothesis.  
  
Introduction: With its recent discovery of the Espers in the lands beyond the Sealed Gate, the city-state of Vector has begun a massive arms buildup. Imperial scientists, led by the brilliant Cid, have successfully instilled the essences of several Espers into powerful armored personnel carriers that fire potent beams of magical energy. This new science, known as MagiTek, is an artificial recreation of the raw power of magic. The other powers of the Southern Continent, hearing of this revival of magic, are now concerned for their independence. The king of Vector, Gestahl, recently issued a proclamation that all peoples of the hemisphere should unite to seek "a place in the sun" alongside the great kingdoms of Figaro and Doma -- by force if necessary. He has turned his eyes first toward Albrook, a rich mercantile nation and the greatest naval power on the southern shores of the continent.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
By all accounts, the newly-christened Empire of Vector felt a desire to flex its newly-found muscles. Machines imbued with the power of magic, weapons of fine steel, and firearms of the greatest of quality heralded a new age in warfare. MagiTek was now the order of the day; although the process had not been attempted with humans, the machines themselves...this MagiTek Armor...were potent enough to announce the birth of a superpower.  
  
It was time to test it on the field of battle.  
  
General Leo Christophe stood on a low rise ten miles from the southern coast, facing the city of Albrook which lay ahead. A stately port city, it was the first obstacle on the road to a grand new Empire to serve as antipode to the northern kingdom of Figaro. A challenge to the rising power of Vector. A challenge he was sent to surmount.  
  
He had briefed the soldiers on the importance of this battle. Albrook was the richest nation on the Southern Continent, at the head of an economic bloc of mercantile states which dotted the coast. Taking Albrook itself would be a brash maneuver, yet it was a necessary step to ensure the integrity of Vector's power. The other cities were weaker, and the Vectorian Army was prepared...surely cutting off the head would insure the death of the body.  
  
"What do you think, Captain Palazzo? Where should we attack?"  
  
The young officer who stood at Leo's right suddenly snapped to attention as the great general inquired him. Kefka Palazzo was a thin man of average height and medium build; his blond hair was trimmed immaculately short, and the pinkish hue of his skin was an offset to the swarthy complexion of his superior. His gray-blue eyes scanned the landscape, pausing at moments when he discerned a weak point in the Abrookese fortifications -- there, where the walls met the beach, an opening guarded by a single tower; there at the two auxiliary gates to the east and west ends of the city; there, again, a promontory, unfortified, overlooking a large concentration of Albrookese troops, near the east gate itself. All weak spots, all to be exploited.  
  
"General," the captain spoke, after a minute of surveying the city's defenses, "That rise near the suburbs is undefended, and a large detachment of enemy forces is below. Perhaps if we could position the MagiTek Armor there, a bombardment will surely give us an advantage."  
  
The general's eyes indicated the area his captain spoke of. Yes, an advantageous maneuver, but what would the cost be? "We'd kill many of their forces," Leo responded, his tone grave as reflected the circumstances behind such a stratagem.  
  
"Regrettable, sir, yet I see few alternatives of such decisiveness."  
  
"Those are people down there, just like us, Captain Palazzo. They have families to go back to. If we attack there, it can be catastrophic for both sides." Leo was the kind of officer that Kefka liked: compassionate and humane, concerned for the welfare of both ally and enemy. If he was worried about the casualties that would be suffered by executing such a strategy, he would not carry it out. It would not be done.  
  
Kefka took a moment to reconsider. But his response was convincing, nonetheless. "Would we not save lives, sir," he implored, "By executing such a surgical attack? It would weaken their morale; they might even retreat or surrender."  
  
Christophe turned to him, brown eyes fixed hard on this captain, who obviously sure of his brilliant strategy. "Are you sure, Captain?"  
  
"The people of Albrook are cowards, sir," Kefka replied, "Creatures of comfort so sure of their power, that they will be miffed by the simplest of challenges."  
  
Noticing that General Christophe appeared interested, Kefka pressed on. "They've grown indolent and soft from their prosperity," he continued, "and will not put up much of a fight. Trust me; a simple attack such as that will send them running." Kefka had lived in Albrook for a time before joining the Vectorian Army; he knew their psyche: arrogant, snooty people, content in their naval strength, enjoying the glory of their mercantile empire, and basking in their great wealth. But with a little pressure...they could crack so easily, it was almost funny.  
  
Leo turned his attention back toward the city. "Fine, then. I'll trust your judgment, Captain Palazzo." At his right stood the commander of the newly-formed MagiTek Corps, which piloted the renowned armored vehicles. "Send the armored divisions to that cliff right there, with an infantry battalion as support," Leo ordered him, indicating the destination with a pointed index finger. "Be sure not to be seen. And when I give the order, fire on the troops below you."  
  
The commander saluted and marched back to camp to muster the corps for the attack.  
  
"Captain Palazzo," Leo directed his attention back to Kefka. "We need a diversion to keep the Albrookese from detecting our mobilization of the armor. Lead a battalion of cavalry to distract the target unit's flank guard."  
  
A stark dividing line between the old military and the new; despite the power of the MagiTek armor, Chocobo-mounted cavalry units were still employed. As of yet, these strange, flightless crosses between an ostrich and a canary could run faster than Mtek Armor, making them ideal skirmish and guerrilla units. Kefka left General Leo surveying the battlefield, down the slope of the rise toward the tree where he had tethered his own Chocobo.  
  
It was still standing where Kefka had left it, being completely loyal as it was. The Chocobo cocked its head as Kefka's footsteps drew nearer, issuing a happy "Wark!" as its master reached it. He couldn't help but grin; ridiculous as it seemed, Kefka was quite fond of this bird, and evidently the feeling between them was mutual.  
  
"Ready to go for a ride, Antilochus?"  
  
Antilochus the Chocobo issued yet another "Wark," seemingly of approval.  
  
"Okay, then. Let's go," Captain Palazzo untied the tether keeping Antilochus near the tree, saddled the bird, and spurred him on back to camp.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, the Chocobo cavalry had assembled for the charge toward the flank guard, in a stand of trees a hundred yards from the Albrookese positions, out of sight. The Mtek division had still not been spotted, and were en route to their vantage point. Each soldier in Kefka's battalion was armed with a flintlock pistol and a Mithril Blade, good equipment for such an attack. Captain Palazzo was conducting a last-minute briefing before the attack was to be made:  
  
"General Leo himself has ordered that you keep casualties down to a minimum. Do not kill unless you can't avoid stopping an attack in any other way. The people of Albrook deserve personal safety, no matter what banner flies over their city, so we aren't aiming for a slaughter."  
  
"Our orders are to distract the enemy, not to destroy it. When they counterattack, we are to hold out until the MagiTek armor is ready to fire. Are we clear?"  
  
Two hundred men astride Chocobos complied with a unanimous, simultaneous "Yes, Sir!"  
  
"Charge!"  
  
A tide of brown-and-yellow forms burst out of the green foliage, covering the distance between the boundary of the forest and the Albrookese detachment in seconds. Kefka drew his saber, as did the soldiers sprinting behind him, as they fell upon the startled enemy. The first to go down was Kefka's target, a man of twenty-five, a sergeant; Captain Palazzo found him easy to defeat. The attacker slashed at Kefka with an overhand swipe, which was easily blocked; however, the Albrookese was caught off-balance by putting all his strength into his attack, and stumbled backward. Kefka's own sword sliced down at him, seemingly carving the air as it fell toward its target's head -- but at the last split second, the sword was rotated horizontally, striking the Albrookese in the head with the flat of the blade. He went down, unconscious.  
  
Another Albrookese defender bore down on him from behind as he dispatched the first of his targets; Kefka knew he was coming. Pivoting backwards in the saddle, he drew his pistol, took careful aim as his attacker drew closer, and fired. The bullet pierced the man's thigh, and he collapsed immediately, disabled.  
  
A third Albrookese soldier ran toward him, brandishing a Dirk in his meaty hand. As he neared Captain Palazzo, he launched himself into the air, aiming to cut the Imperial's throat -- only to be caught in the stomach by Kefka's well-placed kick, brought out as his arm drew back to strike. Groaning in pain, he, too, fell.  
  
Kefka had to smile; it was almost too easy.  
  
The battle progressed in this way for another ten minutes; from time to time, an Albrookian soldier was killed in an act of self-defense, and one or two Imperial cavalrymen were unlucky, but otherwise, no major losses. The 150-strong Albrookese force lost fighters in all sorts of disarming, non-fatal ways, but kept their ground nonetheless. Then, finally...  
  
A blast of light off to the west of the battlefield caught the attention of both sides. All turned their eyes toward the promontory overlooking Albrook, where a fantastic sight beheld them. The batallion of Imperial MagiTek armor, thirty units wide and two rows deep, had finally arrived. Their weapons were astonishing; beams of fire and ice and lightning which rained down upon the startled Albrookese. Watching one of these machines fire was mesmerizing -- a panel would open in the front of the armor, and a collector would protrude from the opening. This contraption would slowly gather the essences of the chosen magic from the surrounding area, as streaks of red, blue, or yellow would swarm and crackle around the unit. An artificial aura would surround and penetrate the armor, building up power with every second. After twenty seconds of powering up, the gathered energy would be drawn into the collector -- and would be fired in a dazzling ray of raw, magical energy.  
  
And what did the great Abrookese do, in such a time of peril? How did they fare against such a display of technological might? Exactly what Kefka expected them to do -- they threw down their arms, en masse, and surrendered before Captain Palazzo.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Two weeks later...  
  
A city of iron stretched out as far as the eye could see, hidden from the world beneath an eternal cloud-cover of soot and grime. Broad avenues, lined by cold-gray buildings, sliced through the wheel-shaped metropolis like spokes of concrete, with occasional parks and plazas to break the monotony of masonry. Canals and railroads branched from the outskirts, with the intention of connecting the fortress nerve-center with the far reaches of a new world order.  
  
Vector, Grand Capital of THE Empire. Vector, the most industrialized urban center in the world. Vector, a city whose burgeoning population was quadruple that of its closest rival, South Figaro. Vector, soon to be the single bastion of humanity, capital of a united, planet-girdling paradise, in which all peoples would serve a single throne.  
  
General Leo Christophe rode in a Chocobo-drawn streetcar along the Grand Boulevard, which led directly to the Imperial Castle. Leo hated Vector, much as it was his Leige's city. A faceless metropolis, it lacked the graceful elegance of Jidoor, the cosmopolitan bustle of Nikeah, and the old-world charm of Maranda. Although most of the populace was well-fed and happy, Vector was an unsanitary place to live, with a terrible pollution problem which poisoned the air and made the water expensive to treat. The streets were often dirty, and crime was rampant in zones that made Zozo look attractive; where even Imperial troops dared not patrol. Yet its six million people were not complaining, as they still had jobs, food on the table, and money to spend.  
  
The streetcar had passed the low-lying buildings of the residential areas of the city, and was now moving through Vector's financial district. Trading hours had been suspended to celebrate the Imperial victory at Albrook, and the normally busy streets were deserted. Giant office buildings, some of which topped off at an unheard-of height of forty stories, loomed dark and foreboding, their Gothic and Art-Deco contours rising up out of Leo's line of sight; absentmindedly, he craned his neck from within the car, straining his eyes to see their tops.  
  
Kefka Palazzo had been right all along; the Albrookese were quick to surrender in the face of MagiTek weaponry. Leo certainly respected and liked the man for his cunning and bravery in the battle. With their army defeated, the Senate of Albrook voted to capitulate to Leo. After assuring the Senate that the lives and property of Albrook's citizens would be unharmed, and lecturing his troops on keeping that promise, Leo allowed his army to occupy the city. A week later, as annexation plans were being negotiated with the ruler of Albrook, a carrier pigeon arrived from Emperor Gestahl himself, bidding Leo return to Vector for an important meeting. A seven-day trek north, and he had arrived.  
  
As General Christophe recalled the events that led him to this point, the streetcar had crested a hill in the street -- and there it was. The Imperial Castle was constructed at the top of a broad, terraced plaza, patrolled night and day by an elite guard of Imperial troops. The palace itself was a giant, three-stepped pyramidal structure, rising from the center of the plaza at a full two hundred feet over the commercial skyscrapers before it. Emperor Gestahl's residence moreover a fortress than an actual palace; weapons of war, such as MagiTek-armed battle cranes and a stationary armored vehicle known as the Guardian kept eternal watch over the mammoth structure. Beyond the Castle loomed the myriad smokestacks of Vector's factories, Imperial workshops which crafted the fine weapons and armor the troopers sported, and fashioning the hulls of the fearsome MagiTek armor. To the east was the giant, domed visage of the MagiTek Research Facility, where the cold hulls were infused with the powers of magic, changing them from mere personnel vehicles to instruments of super warfare.  
  
Disembarking from the car at the edge of the plaza, Leo passed through a series of checkpoints as he made his way toward the palace. The guards outside didn't bother him, nor did the Special Forces agents who guarded the main entrance to the Castle. Leo regarded with great suspicion the giant beam turrets of the dormant Guardian, stationed in a docking bay right in front of the entrance; a grotesque, metal gargoyle serving as last warning to unwanted visitors.  
  
The interior of the Castle was a maze of plush, velvet carpeting, standing in stark contrast to the bare metal walls and exposed pipes in the ceilings. Three corridors branched out from the main hall, leading to separate wings of the Imperial residence. Leo chose the central passage, which led to Gestahl's throne room.  
  
"Leo!!!"  
  
A short, china-pale figure with emerald hair and jade-green eyes dashed out from behind a steel column, rushing full-speed toward Leo and burying itself into his midsection. "Oof!" The tough-as-nails general grunted in astonishment and some pain; although Leo was still muscular and his belly still flat, at thirty he was certainly getting too old for this kind of repeated punishment.  
  
Terra Branford, the adopted daughter of Emperor Gestahl, grinned up at Leo. At six, she was quite mature for her age, and admired Leo plenty. Christophe, in return, enjoyed the company of the child, and treated her with respect and dignity, like a niece. Of course, despite the Emperor's doting on her, Leo Christophe certainly knew what the regent had in store for Terra as she grew older.  
  
"Do you know where Grandpa is?" inquired Leo. That was what Terra called Gestahl, naturally; the man was in his sixties now, anyway.  
  
"He's in the throne room," Terra responded, redundantly pointing a thin finger toward the door on the far wall. "When he found out you got here, he said that your certainly took your sweet time.""  
  
"I'd better go see him," Leo grinned and strode past Terra toward the door.  
  
He was about to push it open, when Terra spoke up behind him. "Leo?"  
  
"Yes?" the general turned away from the door and back toward the child.  
  
"Grandma Colette isn't coming back, is she?"  
  
The question stopped Leo cold; Colette, obviously, was Emperor Gestahl's late wife. Ever since Gestahl had discovered the realm of the Espers, he had slowly descended into a state of power hunger, intent on building an army based on the revived force of magic. In his mad rush, he even neglected his own wife, who wasted away in despair over the next seven years. She doted on Terra, her only solace in a time when her husband forsook her to pursue his dreams of folly. Tuberculosis had struck her two years ago, and then Gestahl would have nothing to do with her. And as she lay dying, he did not bother to visit her. Many who despised the Emperor denounced his neglect of his own wife as a major facilitator in speeding up her death.  
  
All Leo could say was, "We'll talk about this later, okay?"  
  
"All right. See you after the meeting!" Despite the attempted cheerfulness in her tone, Terra was obviously trying to mask an air of discontent that Leo had seemingly brushed her off.  
  
Leaving Terra in the hall, Leo proceeded to the throne room itself, the very heart of the center of the new Empire. Flanked by two scarlet-clad chancellors, Emperor Gestahl of Vector sat upon a simple throne of steel and plush velvet, fixed directly into the floor. He was a thin, short, aged man, draped in layers of silk robes of black and scarlet, with a stringy gray beard and and equally stringy, waist-length hair. An aura of resolve, eagerness and cunning seemingly surrounded and penetrated the regent, almost as if such inflamed emotions were all that kept him alive. Quite certainly it was such an aura that made him appear powerful and a commanding presence, demanding attention and recognition from whoever he dare say perceive as a foe.  
  
"Ah, General Christophe," beamed the Emperor. "How good of you to show up at last."  
  
"The honor is mine, Majesty," Leo responded. "to accommodate your presence. For what reason do you call me back from your service in Albrook?"  
  
"The pleasantries can wait, General Christophe. These are important matters to discuss." Gestahl stood up from his throne and walked toward Leo. "Surely you are familiar with the term 'Mage Warrior,' are you not?"  
  
"I regret that I've no recollection of the term."  
  
"Well, then."; The Emperor moved toward a small bar set into the wall of the throne room and poured himself a snifter of brandy. Holding the glass in one hand, he turned back to his general. "The Mage Warriors were formidable fighters from millennia ago. They used powers taken from Espers to endow themselves with the gifts of magic. As their numbers grew, different sects of Magi were formed, each devoted to the perfection of a certain field of magic."  
  
"I see, my Liege. Forgive me for asking, but how is this relevant?"  
  
The emperor sipped some of his drink. "Allow me to finish, General Christophe. Anyway, starting about 1500 years ago, magic was at its height, with 8 percent of the world population being magic-users, and most Magi had sworn allegiance to a particular sect. However, each sect was intent on expanding its influence, leading to conflicts in the dogmata of feuding sects. Tension between the sects built up. And then somehow, we don't know how, a single spark ignited the flames of war among the rivals, and the War of the Magi ensued. By all means it was a world war, which led to near-global destruction at its climax a thousand years ago. When it was over, magic was dead, the Espers had fled this world, and about three-quarters of the world population lay dead."  
  
"A wonderful history lesson, Majesty, but I still don't understand."  
  
"Ah," Gestahl exclaimed. "But now we get to the fun part! You already know that MagiTek power comes from draining Espers, right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And how original attempts to infuse soldiers with this power ended in failure?"  
  
"Yes." Leo didn't like where this was going.  
  
"Well, Leo," Gestahl replied, practically giggling with anticipation of revealing his secret, "we've perfected it! Cid has corrected the problems in the procedure, and we can go through with a human infusion."  
  
"Wonderful, my Liege." If there was any hint of sarcasm in General Christophe's tone, Emperor Gestahl made no sign of having noticed.  
  
The scientist Cid chose at that point to walk into the room. A short, paunchy man, his body was covered from head to foot in a yellow rubber lab coat, which exposed only his face and a few tufts of orange hair poking from beneath its brim.  
  
"Given that you are the finest soldier that Vector has to offer, Leo," Cid said, "We figured it was only fitting that you be our prototype 'MagiTek Knight.'"  
  
"I decline," the general responded flatly. He had been anticipating such an offer ever since Gestahl had broken the news on perfecting the infusion. "I don't wish to have an advantage over my adversaries by using an arcane power long since dead. It goes against all my morals."  
  
Silence for a moment; none of the parties present dared speak.  
  
Then Gestahl cleared his throat. "You are certainly the consummate soldier, General Christophe. I approve. A warrior's warrior, if I may."  
  
"Perhaps you could make a recommendation as to who would be willing to undergo the infusion?" Cid inquired.  
  
Leo thought for a moment. And when he responded, the words that escaped his lips would define the future of the world to come: "Palazzo, sir. Captain Kefka Palazzo."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Eighteen years later...  
  
"And so, it ends here."  
General Leo Christophe lay on his back in the village green of Thamasa, staring up at the jester-like figure standing over him. Kefka Palazzo, the first of the MagiTek Knights, had changed dramatically over the years. Gone was the flushed countenance of his face, replaced by a death-white pallor offset by intricate markings in scarlet face paint. Most prominent of all of these was a rictus of red, whose corners were turned up in a smirk of triumph. Gone was the conventional Imperial uniform; in its place were heavy green robes with patches of red, pink, and gold. In his hair hung a large Chocobo tail plume, dyed a bright and garish pink. Eyes, once gray-blue and soft, were now sharp and piercing, flashing many colors, within whose pupils devilish flames burned.  
  
"I'll have to tell your 'liege' I had to exterminate a traitor, heheh..." Kefka had Leo pinned to the ground; with one hand he reached inside his robes, withdrawing a dagger of exceptional quality. He raised it with that hand, while still keeping Christophe immobile on the ground.  
  
"Now then, Leo," Kefka hissed, "You made your decision nearly two decades ago, passing up the ability to have the power I hold now, and look where it got you. Not only that, you passed it to me, and soon the world will subvert to my very whim. All that I've done can stem from YOUR stubborn honor; the poisoning of Doma would never've happened if it weren't for YOU. What happens now is a result of YOUR choice. And oh yes, that half-Esper wench...what happened to her? YOUR fault. You had to decide to be noble, and look where it got you, and me! Do you have anything to say?"  
  
These words burned even worse than when Leo realized that he had been manipulated by a cruel and power-hungry Emperor only a minute before. And strangely enough, Kefka was right. God, what Terra had to go through, and Cyan's loss of his family...all due to a simple answer to Cid's offer.  
  
And so, with this revelation, Leo had only one thing to say: not only to Kefka, but to Terra, Cyan, Edgar, Locke, Celes...everyone who had and would suffer at Kefka's hands:  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
The dagger in Kefka's hand hovered for a moment, suspended over Leo's prone form. Then it dove at his neck like a hawk.  
  
FINIS 


End file.
